Sunday, December 23, 2007

The slow loris is an arboreal primate that lives in southeast Asia. It is notable because it is the only poisonous primate. It bears remark that I say “poisonous” and not “venomous.”

The slow loris secretes toxins from the inside part of its elbows. That is fucking stupid. It’s probably the least advantageous place to secrete toxins from, other than behind the knee and the penis. Even the wrist would be better than the elbow. What if all I had to do was rub my wrist on somebody to slowly poison them? I can pass that off as an encouraging pat on the back or shoulder. Now imagine if I had to rub my elbow on them instead. That’s not only much more noticeable, but it warrants a punch in the face. If I’m wanting to spread toxins on others, I’m going to want to do it stealthily, without suffering injury myself.

The only thing a poison elbow gland does is deter your predators from eating your elbows. I’m sure that’s a great survival technique against snakes. That’s it. Just snakes. Not birds, or lizards, or other mammals, just snakes. Fucking idiot slow loris.

Stupid and Creepy as Fuck

There are things we can learn from the slow loris, however. The slow lorises raise their young for about nine months before they boot them to the curbside and make them get a “real” job. Whatever, mom and dad. Anyway, during the initial nine months, the slow loris mother is providing milk for the toddler loris, but it still needs to go about foraging. What to do with the unattended child? Leave it with the deadbeat father? Not a chance. Lorises are not risk takers, people. They suck on their elbows to gather the toxin in their mouth (good idea #1) and then lick the poison onto the baby loris (good idea #2). That way, mommy loris can park her kid on a branch, and no predatory animals will try to eat it when ma is out looking for food. Nice. Bonus points because the toxin smells like sweaty socks.

Why don’t humans do this? Instead of calling for a sitter the next time you want to go grocery shopping without the pesky child dropping unwanted items into your cart or screaming bloody murder in the middle of the aisle, simply cover him or her with a fine coat of chalky dust ala arsenic. (Or, if you don’t want to get dust all over your house or furniture, mix the arsenic powder with peanut butter, and spread liberally.) Tired of paying for that stupid nanny just so you can hit the club scene with your newest fling, Jose, on the weeknights? Cyanide + Jelly = Drunk and Abused Wednesday for you! I guarantee your kids will be sound asleep by the time you get home.

But humans are innovators. When we invented the airplane, we didn’t want to fly just as fast as birds, we wanted to fly faster, to show God that we can make better stuff than He can. Well, stick it to The Man again, and take it a step further than the slow loris. Why stop with poison when you can graduate to killer bees. Now your kids will be safe from kidnappers and learn about nature while they’re covered with thousands of apis mellifera scutellata. You just extinguished the need for a baby sitter and a tutor, all with one simple solution.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

When at work, I sometimes tend to overuse the internet a bit. Today I happened across an article concerning one mall Santa and one very horny lady (with crutches). You can read it here, or, if you hate liberals, you can find the exact same article on FOXNews.com here. (Thank you, Associated Press.) Apparently this woman groped Santa in front of a bunch of kids. Big whoop. Grow up, Santa, and fuck the fuckin’ fuck out of this chick.

This is not what he did. Instead, Crybaby Kris Kringle reported her… to the cops. They found her because, well, she was using crutches. Big mistake, lady. I’ve learned my lesson: Never sexually assault someone if you are currently crippled.

Naturally, when I read this I exclaimed to my coworkers, “Oh my God, guys, Santa was RAPED earlier today.” Of course, my boss had to chime in. “That’s not true; Don’t say that.” She was right, however. According to my “organization,” rape is described something to the effect of “an object forcibly entering a vagina without consent of the vagina-holder” or something ridiculous like that. So, technically, men cannot be raped, because they lack the “necessary equipment” to suffer rapage. Interesting to note, however, that it does not say a “penis forcibly entering a vagina,” it just says “object.” So, if a woman is gardening in the buff (some people like that sort of thing), and she happens to fall just the right way, she has been officially raped, according to the definition above. Awesome.

I adjusted my statement accordingly. “Oh, uh, Santa has been forcibly sodomized… with a crutch.” Still, my boss would have none of it. Apparently, Miss Fancypants read the article earlier and said, “No, he was just groped.” My cries of “Don’t debate me!” only fell on deaf ears. Whatever.

The story did end on a high note, however. “Santa Tim” Connaghan, president of RealSantas.com (so you know his credentials are the fuckin’ shit), gave some encouraging tidbits to all of those who aspire to be groped by women while dressed like Santa in front of countless naïve children. “I’ve had some very nice ladies sit on my lap. Once in a while they’ll say ‘I hope Mrs. Claus isn’t going to be upset.’ You have to be discreet and kind and say ‘Oh, no, she’ll be OK. You can sit here, but only for one photo.'”